While the Iron is Hot
by BiteMeTechie
Summary: Alone time in Arkham is scarce. Riddler/Scarecrow slash.


___**A/N: **__On the "Ask the Squishykins" tumblr, Twinings and I are currently offering ourselves up for two full weeks of filling fic prompts for our readers, varying in length from a hundred to three thousand-plus words. The project has been dubbed the Free For All Fic For All—or FFAFFA for short. This is one of those stories—and this is the boilerplate author's note you'll see on all of 'em. The current round of FFAFFA is temporarily on hold due to IRL circumstances (hi, Hurricane Sandy!), but we'll be starting it up again in a few days__, so if you want a custom fic written to any particular specifications, drop by and ask for it!_  


_**Prompt:** Riddler/Scarecrow in Arkham, mature (R-rated)_

_**Be advised:** this contains rough sexual content.  
_

* * *

The Arkham laundry room is musty. Not dirty, just musty. The smell of old covered over with powdered detergent. Soiled linens everywhere. A washing machine sways as its tumbler spins. Up against it, two shadows move. They melt into each other, then break away, breathing heavily. Eager hands slither over hot flesh, tracing the ridges of muscles under their gray uniforms. Nails scratch. Teeth scrape. Mouths meet in fast and furious kisses that ignite and burn away any lingering reluctance.

They have ten minutes. Just ten. The guard sneaked away for a smoke break. They have to make the most of this. They don't trade words, just fevered touches, both well aware that time is short and they won't have another chance for awhile.

Jonathan's fingers bury themselves in Edward's hair, twisting and pulling savagely, his other hand dipping down to stroke his erection through the rough fabric of his pants. Edward nips at Jonathan's lip with his teeth, drawing a few droplets of blood. Jonathan groans appreciatively, tongue snaking out to wipe it away. Their breathing is ragged, the air between them humid from their desperate open-mouthed kisses.

They claw at each other here in the semi-dark of the laundry room, grasping for a closeness they're too often denied. His head thrown back, Edward's hands fist in the fabric of Jonathan's shirt. An electric jolt runs through him when teeth meet the flesh of his throat, leaving angry little red marks that will have to be covered later. He feels it all the way down his spine, nerve endings coming alive one after the other, like dominoes toppling in a neat little line. The pleasure is so intense it almost hurts.

Roughly, Jonathan grips the hair in his hand more firmly, pulling Edward to him for a searing kiss. Everything is white hot. Frenzied. Tongues mingling. Hands exploring. The world is blotted out. One of them growls, but neither is sure which it is.

Edward drops to his knees. Fabric is all but ripped away. He doesn't tease, doesn't go slow. There's no room for gentleness or subtlety here. This is lust. Pure. Simple. Brutal. Beautiful.

Jonathan's knees buckle. He nearly cries out. Raking his fingernails over Edward's scalp, his hips move in a steady rhythm, thrusts growing more forceful. If their time were their own, he would revel in an hour of this, fighting back against the desire clouding his mind until he no longer could. After all, Jonathan Crane is stubborn refusal to yield personified. It is a trait that extends to everything he does, even here. He is not a man easily undone.

Undoubtedly, that's why the Riddler wants him: he's a _challenge_.

Edward moans. Jonathan feels it more than he hears it, the vibrations sending delicious little shivers all over. His resolve is in serious danger of shattering. He's panting as quietly as he can, little murmurs of _God_ and _Yes_ slipping from his lips in between gasps. He's…

So…

Close…

The guard returns two minutes later. Finds the Riddler and the Scarecrow folding sheets, as casual as you please. They're both a little flushed, but the laundry room is hot and humid in the summertime. He thinks nothing of it.

When their work is finished, they return to their separate cells to count down the days until the next laundry room assignment. In the meantime, the rest of the work schedule will keep them busy.

After all, tomorrow is kitchen duty with Harley and Ivy…


End file.
